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To Sir Roland Blennerhassett - John Emerich Edward Dalberg, Lord Acton, Selections from the Correspondence of the First Lord Acton, Vol. I (Cardinal Newman, Lady Blennerhassett, W.E. Gladstone) 
Selections from the Correspondence of the First Lord Acton, edited with and Introduction by John Neville Figgis and Renald Vere Laurence. Vol. I Correspondence with Cardinal Newman, Lady Blennerhassett, W.E. Gladstone and Others (London: Longmans, Gree and Co., 1917).
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To Sir Roland Blennerhassett
My dear Blennerhassett,—
It proves impossible to recover the Professor’s earlier letters to me. You may be able to help me over a stile or two if you carry your thoughts to the time when you were at Munich in 1863 and 1864, Oxenham being there too.
You then wrote to me that Döllinger could not understand why Newman hesitated to throw over Liguori. Is it your impression that that is a tenable, or only a highly-coloured, account of his then state of mind? He became sensitive afterwards to misinterpretation and censure. Do you think he had no sense of it whatever in 1864?
Of course I see a sort of truth in what you wrote; but I cannot make up my mind how far that numbness or denseness went.
What is your impression, looking back now, as to how far he was then conscious of existing or threatening differences? It is certain that insight came to him late. There is the political difference, with what it involves since 1861. There is the German opposition to Roman scholasticism, since the Gelehrtenversammlung1 in 1863, and there is the Inquisition in 1867.
But my impression is that in 1864 he was unconscious of the yawning gulf. At that time, though there were theological issues superadded to the original political one, it is certain to me that there was no ethical issue before him, and the question of the Inquisition seems to me to have been pressed upon him by the French.
I find very little trace of external influences on the course of his life. But at this moment I do suspect that Persecution was made a topic of meditation, by Montalembert and his friends, who were much occupied with it in the Malines days1 and often speak of it in letters.
I should be really much obliged if you would rack your memory, which is much better than mine, as to this series of questions.
You perceive my point:
Since 1861 he is aware that he condemns Rome politically, but not expressly more than politically.
Since 1863 he becomes dimly aware that Rome backs the theologians who are against him; but this is still mere theory.
In 1867 he embarks on the question of Persecution, declares an ethical opposition, and goes almost all lengths.
This last step, to my certain knowledge, was not dreamt of in 1864.
What I cannot tell is, how wide was the theological gulf, how clear the perception of it in ’64? and how did persecution, which gave him no concern in August 1864, become so important in the days of Arbues2 ?
It is a fact that it vexed the French in those days, and was much dwelt upon in Montalembert’s letters. Is there any objection to that apparent and plausible derivation?—Ever yours,
Tegernsee,August 11, 1890.
Dear Mr. Gladstone,—
I earnestly hope that you will remember me at Hawarden, and my great need of the correspondence in the tower. For several weeks I have been laid up at Kissingen, and unable to do any serious work. But I have succeeded in collecting a good many letters from different quarters, and still have a delicate and unpromising negotiation with the representatives of Montalembert. Some transitions in the progress of Döllinger’s thought are still obscure to me, especially between 1864 and 1867. There as elsewhere I count firmly on light to come from you.
This has been an opportunity for reading many old letters from Newman, which I shall have less scruple in quoting since the sad news of his death. If Wemyss Reid is the man I take him for, there will be something in your hand on the greatest of your English contemporaries.
You know that in this instance I am forced to use the ambiguous word great as I should in speaking of Napoleon or Bismarck, Hegel or Renan. But I should quarrel with every friend I have, in almost every camp or group, if I said all I know, or half of what I think, of that splendid Sophist.
You know that the Dean of St. Paul’s has a book on the Oxford Movement ready in type. I believe he had a compact with Newman not to publish in his time. I hope he will be induced now to do it. I have read the book with very great interest, and with that admiration which belongs to all the Dean ever writes.—Ever yours,
Tegernsee,August 14, 1890.
Tegernsee,le 18 août, 1890.
Chère Lady Blennerhassett,—
Impossible de vous dire combien votre envoi1 m’a été précieux, et combien je vous en suis reconnaissant. J’ai parcouru à vol d’oiseau ce qui est personnel, et avec le plus grand soin ce qui est réél et par conséquent caracteristique. Je n’ai pu achever qu’aujourd’hui et j’ai regretté de laisser partir vos enfants sans vous rendre ce que votre fille m’a remis.
Cela vous attend et ne vous attendra pas longtemps, j’espère. Autrement je vous apporterai tout cela à Munich, ainsi que les Montalembertiana, qui ont été pleins d’instruction pour moi.
Il y a bien des choses que je sais et que je ne savais pas avant de lire ces letters. D’abord ce sont les meilleures qu’il ait écrites. Elles ont bien plus de mouvement et de couleur que toutes celles que j’avais vues de lui. Je constate cependant une diminution d’intérêt vers 1869 ou 1870.
Ensuite je m’aperçois que non seulement il y avait des choses que je ne comprenais pas, mais que je comprenais mal, comme Michelet—que j’ajoutais l’erreur à la simple ignorance. Je suis heureux d’être à temps, grâce à votre très grande bonté et amicale confiance, de changer une partie de ce que j’avais—plus ou moins—écrit.
Pour la plupart, sa vie m’est intelligible et claire; et je vois venir, grandir l’antagonisme avec le Catholicisme usuel, depuis 1861 jusqu’en 1867.
Mais je ne sais pas fixer le jour où il l’a compris lui-même; je ne vois pas encore bien combien l’histoire contemporaine y a ajouté à l’histoire du passé, et je ne puis pas exactement déterminer jusqu’à quel point il s’est jamais dit qu’il s’agissait d’une guerre au couteau.
Si je devais terminer aujourd’hui, je dirais, sur ces trois points restés douteux, que la rupture intérieure consciente date de l’été 1867; que l’histoire contemporaine n’y est pas pour grand’chose; et qu’il ne s’est jamais dit que, par exemple, Sailer1 et Catherine de Medicis sont de religions différentes.
Si ajoutant les souvenirs aux Correspondances vous croyez que je me trompe, sur ces trois points, ou sur ceux qui ne me paraissent pas incertains: que le véritable mouvement, en sens inverse de celui de Rome, n’a pas commencé avant 1861 et était achevé en 1867—avertisez-moi je vous en prie. Les lettres que le Professeur m’a écrites dans les premiers temps ont disparu.
Je suis frappé de ce que les Français sentaient tellement plus profondément que lui, la grandeur et la profondeur de l’abîme qui les séparait. Si j’avais ce que je n’ai pas ici, le Testament de Lacordaire, le discours de Malines, et l’article de Montalembert sur l’Espagne, je pourrais mieux le montrer.
En vous écrivant comme dans une lettre que Montalembert cite, et en parlant de moi aux dames de céans, il dit bien souvent qu’on est d’accord au fond, qu’il n’y a pas de différence de principes, etc.
Je me demande si c’était sincère? Je crois bien que la discussion l’ennuyait, surtout par écrit. Mais aussi je me demande s’il ne craignait pas de trop creuser les choses. Il est sûr qu’il a mieux aimé s’éloigner de moi et rabattre de notre intimité que d’envisager tout à fait franchement le problème que je lui posais pendant des années à toute occasion et sous toutes les formes.
Corrigez-moi encore si mes souvenirs m’égarent lorsque je ne vois qu’une personne, Baader, qui a eu, directement, de l’influence sur son développement. Il y a bien un moment très critique, l’entrée en scène de l’Inquisition, où je soupçonne un peu l’influence des Français. Mais cela c’est toute une situation; ce n’est pas l’action d’un esprit sur un autre.
Croyez à toute la reconnaissance de votre dévoué,
Chère Lady Blennerhassett,—
Tini1 vient de me dire que vous avez désiré savoir ce qui en est de Montalembert, dont Mlle Jeannette n’aurait pas trouvé quatre cahiers.
Il est vrai que trois cahiers manquent au manuscrit que vous avez eu l’insigne bonté de m’envoyer. Je n’y avais pas songé, étant dans une partie que je n’avais pas à étudier. Après le No. 4 sans titre, il n’y a rien jusqu’au No. 8 voyage d’Allemagne, etc. Vous devez avoir cela parmi vos papiers à Munich. Ce sont les Nos. 5, 6, 7.
Avec les copies des lettres de Montalembert on m’a envoyé celles d’Eckstein ainsi que quelques autres du même format. Cela m’a beaucoup intéressé, et je vous en parle de peur que vous ne vous demandiez ce que c’est devenu. Cela attend vos ordres et plutôt votre présence à Tegernsee.
Je n’ai pas trouvé les originaux des lettres de Montalembert parmi les papiers du Professeur. Il soupçonnait une fois en vous ecrivant, qu’on l’avait volé. Il se pourrait que quelqu’amateur eût emporté ces précieux autographes. Je suis d’autant plus reconnaissant de vos copies.
Deux lettres manquent entièrement.
Dans l’une il parlait de son discours à l’Académie et de la réponse de Guizot. Dans l’autre de Mgr. de Ségur1 qui l’aurait calomnié, et auquel il tenait à répondre. Je dois vous avoir raconté cela dans le temps.
J’ai remarqué que le Professeur ne vous a pas dit qu’il écrivait sur l’Inquisition, dans l’été de 1867, acte par lequel il tranchait tous les fils. Bientôt après il cite de vous ce mot, not to burn his ships.
Je me demande ici s’il s’est expliqué avec vous alors sur ce thème absolument décisif, et si vous pensez qu’il s’en rendait compte. Vous voyez, je reviens sur un de mes points obscurs, et je devine que c’est à ce propos que vous aurez parlé des vaisseaux.
Laissez-moi vous demander encore une fois de vouloir bien contrôler mes souvenirs: Pensez-vous comme moi (ou autrement), qu’il mettait Moehler2 au-dessus de tous ses amis, avec ou après Goerres—que c’était là le jugement permanent et final; et que tout en aimant beaucoup Montalembert, il ne mettait pas ses amis Français sur la même hauteur?—Croyez-moi, votre dévoué,
Tegernsee, 19 août 1890.
Chère Lady Blennerhassett,—
Ce que vous avez eu l’extrème bonté de chercher pour moi, avec peine et de m’envoyer avec difficulté est arrivé hier au soir, et ce matin j’ai tout extrait.
Je vous en remercie le plus sincèrement possible. Ce qui manque ne fait vraiment rien. Tout est clair dans le mouvement d’esprit de Montalembert, qui l’a isolé en France, et l’a ramené vers le Professeur, par des causes extérieures pour la plupart. J’ai assez de preuves pour la pointe de lumière que ce parallélisme fait jaillir sur le changement qui s’est opéré chez le Professeur entre 1866 et 1867.
Et ce que j’ai, c’est à vous que je le dois, que je dois de comprendre ce que je crois aujourd’hui comprendre, et ce que certainement je n’ai pas compris de son vivant.
Ce qui ne m’en console pas du tout c’est d’avoir appris, aussi par vous, que lui, au fond, ne me comprenait pas du tout, et ne savait pas pourquoi en histoire, je mets en avant autant que je puis, l’idée de crime au lieu de celle d’erreur et de péché. Je ne lui ai parlé que de cela pendant dix ans, et je m’humilie de reconnaître que, avec les hommes les plus intelligents, les plus instruits et les moins disposés à entretenir des préjugés contre ma doctrine, le plus sérieux et le plus médité de mes discours ne vaut qu’une chanson.
Ma jeunesse se fait une grande fête d’accepter votre bonne invitation, le jour où elle ira à Munich, et nous vous en sommes très reconnaissants. Le jour où elles viendront n’est pas établi encore, ou le mauvais temps et l’approche menaçante de l’oncle d’Amérique. J’espère que ce sera la semaine prochaine.
Je prends S. pour Sicherer et j’en conclus que ma doctrine n’est pas sûre d’être agréée d’avance, sur l’influence de la docte Italie du XVIIIe siècle sur l’Allemagne du XIXe. Raison pour soigner mes paroles sur ce chapitre.
L’Epilogue1 aurait eu ceci d’intéressant que Rio2 était du dîner des artistes aux pèlerins (de l’église et de la liberté), pendant lequel Lamennais a appris sa condamnation. Le Professeur en était aussi et il est allé après avec les trois à la Menterschweige, où ils étaient fort gais. Il n’a jamais su ce que Lamennais avait ce jour-là dans sa poche. Il m’a dit que Lamennais lui a écrit en partant, c’est-à-dire le lendemain, pour lui dire adieu, et s’excuser de ne pas venir le voir.
Cette lettre est-elle encore entre les mains de ces demoiselles1?—Votre dévoué,
Hawarden,Sept. 1, 1890.
My dear Acton,—
I have been asked from many quarters to write about Cardinal Newman. But I dare not. First I do not know enough. Secondly, I should be puzzled to use the little knowledge that I have. I was not a friend of his, but only an acquaintance, treated with extraordinary kindness, whom it would ill become to note what he thinks defects, while the great powers and qualities have been and will be described far better by others.
Ever since he published his University Sermons in 1843, I have thought him unsafe in philosophy, and no Butlerian, though a warm admirer of Butler. No: it was before 1843, in 1841, when he published Tract XC. The general argument of that tract was unquestionable: but he put in sophistical matter without the smallest necessity. What I recollect is about General Councils: where, in treating the declaration that they may err, he virtually says, “No doubt they may—unless the Holy Ghost prevents them.”
But he was a wonderful man, a holy man, a very refined man, and (to me) a most kindly man.
I have written to Dr. Reusch about getting a translator for the Döllinger Briefe, etc., lately published.
It is most pleasant to infer from your letter that you have the great subject before your mind, and mean to take it in hand. When you write again, I hope you will be able to report yourself absolutely well.
I have the fear that my Döllinger letters will disappoint you. When I was with him he spoke to me with the utmost freedom; and so I think he wrote, but our correspondence was only occasional. I think nine-tenths of my intercourse with him was oral: with Cardinal Newman nothing like one-tenth. But with neither was the mere corpus of my intercourse great, though in D.’s case it was very precious, most of all the very first of it in 1845.
It is profoundly interesting to think of you at Tegernsee: but how it brings back the great figure.—Ever yours,
W. E. Gladstone.
Chère Lady Blennerhassett,—
Vous êtes toujours trop bonne de continuer à penser à moi et mes incertitudes et mes énigmes. Il m’a semblé que certainement des choses manquaient, et le voisin Friedrich1 les tenait probablement. Du reste il m’a donné de son mieux toutes les informations que je lui ai demandées.
Sicherer a beau jeu s’il me reproche d’avoir appris peu de choses et fort lentement. C’est vrai, et cela ne me fait pas honneur. Mais cela ne change rien à mon problème.
Je n’ai jamais su, du vivant du Professeur s’il comprenait et repoussait ma pensée, ou s’il ne la comprenait même pas. C’est là-dessus que, grâce à vous, la lumière—tardive—s’est faite. Et cela donne à réfléchir, quand on pense que ma doctrine est simple, claire, tranchante, que je l’ai fait connaître avant le Concile qu’elle a seule inspiré mon opposition et n’a pas été, par conséquent, sans quelque influence dans le monde. Ajoutez que, depuis que j’ai remarqué, vers 1879, que nous ne nous entendions pas, je n’ai fait qu’en parler au professeur; et que tant d’autres n’ont pas trouvé cela dûr à comprendre, ou difficile à repousser.
Ma femme me fait observer que plusieurs personnes ont de la peine à comprendre qu’on s’agite beaucoup, pendant des années, non pas pour convaincre un adversaire, mais pour apprendre son point de vue. Il se peut qu’il y ait de cela dans l’obstacle contre lequel je me suis heurté.
Loin de vouloir dire chose pénible, je vous dois la plus sincère reconnaissance, en général d’abord; mais surtout au moment où je dois écrire, et où il serait fâcheux de ne pas voir clair. Il y avait, jusqu’ici toujours cette possibilité, qu’il ne tenait pas à approfondir, ou qu’il me supposait d’autres motifs, tels qu’un Ultramontanisme inconscient, ou un rationalisme caché. Et puis je croyais que, n’écrivant rien, je passais à ses yeux pour avoir étudié moins que je l’ai fait, et qu’il ne prenait pas toujours fort au sérieux ce qui était le résultat d’un bien long et rude travail.
Tous mes doutes n’ont pas disparu, car tout n’est pas conséquent. Mais votre témoignage a le plus grand poids.—Votre dévoué,
Tegernsee,le 10 septembre.
Hawarden,Oct. 6, 1890.
My dear Acton,—
Having one thousand subjects to speak to you about, I reduce them to nine hundred and ninety-nine by discharging on you a copy of what I have written to Mr. Hutton (R. H.) about Cardinal Newman, and I think you will not resent it, though the letter is written from my personal and perhaps peculiar point of view. I shall be glad to have it again, only when we meet: perhaps you will bring it!
It is certainly the extinction of a great luminary, and so many have died lately, that it seems as if the century ought now to die too.
I have a vehement desire to show you, when I may, my new library, as it is called: though I trust it is only a nucleus or a germ. I have moved about half my books there, say 12,000. At some time I want you to do me a very great service, if you will assume the burden. That is, to furnish me with some suggestions towards supplying the gaps in some leading branches. The ultimate capacity of the building as I have made it is, I estimate, 40,000 volumes.
Perhaps before long I shall hear from you what you intend about the life of Dr. Döllinger. I even hope you may perhaps have written to Murray, or to somebody, direct.
I had both the ex-priest librarians, Law1 and Hutton,2 here last week, very able men, whose interests are by no means estranged from religion; but I cannot quite make out their exact positions.—Ever yours,
W. E. Gladstone.
Dear Mr. Gladstone,—
I return with very sincere thanks—not the letters, but—your letter to Hutton. He is an excellent critic, and a most able man, and Dick will have to send me his book.
You are undoubtedly right on that point, of Newman’s inacquaintance with the sixteenth century, both English and foreign. I think he knew his English—Anglican—seventeenth century pretty well. But then Hooker and Andrewes and Hammond were not the root of things.
Allowing for only four great gaps of imperfect knowledge, for knowledge always imperfect except when got up for a purpose, as the fourth century undoubtedly was, and also for that sophistical tendency natural to a man who was always looking for a view, for something tenable logically, whether tenable historically or not, I do think it is very difficult to speak too highly of his capacity. He is so much better when he is wrong than most men are. For good and evil he greatly reminds me of Fénelon; but Newman was the stronger man. I cannot help thinking that you will, one of these days, for your own satisfaction, put on paper your recollections of him and the way you stood towards each other. And I shall be sorry if you do not do it while the iron is hot.
The letters are infinitely more precious than you suppose, and it is quite impossible to say how great a debt of gratitude I owe you for trusting me with them.
I have used them only slightly in my essay, and have ventured to keep them longer, as I could not make final extracts until I got some leisure. Be sure that they are in the hands of one who knows their value, and what is involved, in the sending of them.
They bring up to about 300 the number of the Professor’s letters that have been in my hands. I have used only about a dozen out of the whole number; and you will see that my paper, though unreasonably long, is one chain of omissions.
I have ventured to refer to your conversations of 1845, although, unfortunately, I know them only by oral report.
And you will see, by the side-lights, that my notion would be to place Döllinger in the centre of a vast circle of chiefly friends. I have not written to Murray, and have not spoken of anything more to anybody; but having now gone over the ground and examined the materials, I think it might be in my power to write a more complete memoir.
If, therefore, I may again appeal to you for aid and intervention, and you would be generously willing to move Murray on the matter, and to make him propitious, I shall once more be deeply grateful to you.
I have had all his papers and manuscripts communicated to me, and have seen, as I said just now, the best of his correspondence. I was constantly with him, or in correspondence with him, for forty years; and have had the fortune to find that he had kept all my letters from 1852, and I may cite to you this passage from his letter to me of June 27, 1869: “Wenn Sie bedenken dass Sie der Einzige sind gegen den ich mich ganz offen auch bis auf die innersten Gedanken aussprechen kann, so werden Sie begreifen wie sehr ich mich sehne, Sie zu umarmen.”1
I put myself in your hands: but whether Murray or another is best, you must say. Perhaps you will be so extremely good as to think this over—after Dalmeny.—I remain, ever truly yours,
I have been puzzled about the Huttons, for I fancy the other committed himself about J. H. N.
Tegernsee,October 12th, 1890.
Dear Mr. Gladstone,—
The accounts of Lord Granville have been very alarming, when one knows his weak condition, and Dick, calling two or three times last week, was not allowed to see any member of the family. Freddy Leveson now tells us that things look better; but we are left a good deal to conjecture.
Séché asks me for letters of Döllinger to you, without actually saying that he has your promise. I shall not feel bound, or even distinctly authorised, to send them, until I have your injunctions. His book, founded on new material, is in part interesting. His purpose is to show that Liberal Catholicism, of which he takes Döllinger as the type, originated in a development, or a transformation, or a decomposition of later Jansenism.
I do not think that this is good history, still less good biography. Döllinger had so great a dislike of the essential doctrine of Jansenism that it amounted to a prejudice against some writers of the party, and especially against Pascal. What is more decisive is this, that he never did proceed, in the characteristic actions of his life, from any dogmatic system, or from any particular theory. He got, no doubt, to be in touch, successively, with the considerable writers of every school, and one can trace the impress or the stimulus of each. But it was not so much by preference as by the necessities of history which compelled him to take in all sorts of things.
It is as a scholar, not as a theorist, by the study of facts, not by attachment to dogmas, that he became what he was. The Döllinger of the Vatican Council and the Bonn Conference is not the product of certain opinions in the past, but of a certain level of present knowledge. He acted under the impression made on his mind by the state of learning at that time, by particular books published between 1863 and 1868, and the enquiries they enabled him to pursue. The mark of just that time was upon him to the end. He went on with his own studies upon those lines. But he did not follow contemporary discoveries in the eighties as efficiently as in the sixties.
I would say not only that Döllinger was not a Jansenist or a product of Jansenism, but that he also was not a Liberal. There was, I think, a moment in his later life when he was conscious of the tremendous consequences to the Church of Liberal thinking, and recognised that what is essentially a political principle becomes equivalent to a religious principle when applied to the Catholic Hierarchy. It was when you were at Tegernsee last, on the day after your expedition. He had had a seizure, and he came into my room, and spoke some very solemn words which I have never repeated. But excepting that occasion, he kept Liberal theories quite out of his theological system, and was always a little impatient of the ways in which I applied them. I could hardly make some of my historical judgments intelligible to him without much explanation; and when he knew what I meant he certainly did not like it.
But it is enough to say that it was the mark of a Jansenist, to be influenced, especially, by St. Augustine; and of Döllinger, to be influenced by St. Vincent, and strangely independent of St. Augustine.
Therefore I can hardly imagine a more disputable thesis than that of our French friend; and what I shall have to say will be very distinctly opposed to him. And I wait your directions before satisfying his request.
Until Aston Manor1 I thought that all my friends at home made too much of the evil done by Parnell to the cause. I am sorry now to be obliged to suspect you were all right. But his breakdown at Cork, if it is confirmed, is a serious blow to his confidence and credit. Can you imagine that I was invited to stand for Creighton’s chair2 ? I venture to ask your indulgence for Talleyrand in the next Knowles.3 —I remain, yours ever truly,
Cannes,March 22, 1891.
Victoria Hotel,St. Leonards,
My dear Acton,—
Your account of Dr. Döllinger4 is intensely interesting. With my inferior faculty and means of observation, I have long adopted your main proposition. His attitude of mind was more historical than theological. When I first knew him in 1845, and he honoured me with very long and interesting conversations, they turned very much upon theology, and I derived from him what I thought very valuable and steadying knowledge. Again in 1874 during a long walk when we spoke of the shocks and agitation of our time, he told me how the Vatican decrees had required him to re-peruse and re-try the whole circle of his thought. He did not make known to me any general result, but he had by that time found himself wholly detached from the Council of Trent, which was indeed a logical necessity from his preceding action. The Bonn Conferences1 appeared to show him nearly at the standing point of Anglican Theology.
I thought him more Liberal as a Theologian than as a politician. On the point of Church Establishment he was as impenetrable as if he had been a Newdigate.2 He would not see that there were two sides to the question.
I long earnestly to know what progress he had made at the last towards redeeming the pledge given in one of his letters to me that the evening of his life was to be devoted to a great theological construction.
I once proposed to him the idea of republishing in series the works of (so to call them) the Henotic writers. He entered into it warmly. I then propounded it to Dr. Mozley, the Regius Professor, who did the like. I wanted it done by the Oxford faculty, but Dr. Bright took some sideways objection which “blocked it,” and Mozley’s life was unhappily soon cut off. Disraeli provided a very inferior successor.3
I should have called Dr. D. an anti-Jesuit, but in no other sense, that is in no sense, a Jansenist. I never saw the least sign of leaning in that direction.
When Séché1 applied to me for his letters, I used you rather as a screen or buffer, and gave no consent. I could not see that they entered legitimately within his precinct. He was surely built upon-quite other lines. Jansenism was too narrow for such a profound and comprehensive historic mind.—Meantime, and ever yours,
W. E. Gladstone.
Dear Mr. Gladstone,—
The fires of Hawarden have so many irons in them, that I did not succeed in saying half the things I had in my mind, or thanking you in the least possible degree for all I have to thank you for.
I should have told you, as I owe it to you, that I propose so to write the life of the Professor as to give a substantive chapter dealing with each of the matters that engaged him. As for instance: Döllinger and his Church history would be an occasion for describing where Church history stood, how it got so far, when he began.
Döllinger and the Frankfort Parliament2 would be a reason for describing Church policy, and the rise and meaning of Liberal Catholicism; Döllinger and the Vatican Council would contain all I know about that event.
Döllinger and Reunion, a short view of that question, with some extracts from your letters to him, after submitting them to you for permission.
Döllinger and the Roman question, in like manner, the natural history and fall of the temporal power.
Döllinger and England—both his personal relations with contemporaries and his points of contact with the Anglican and the English Catholic theology of the seventeenth century—and so on. I would try in each case to give only new matter, of which there is a good deal, and to set him in a very large frame, embracing all his main subjects. I see a moment coming when I should be glad to go into some detail with you as to certain points.
Oxford has been a mine for me, the literature of the English Catholics being otherwise so rare. In London, where I go to-morrow, I propose to take the great liberty of calling on your editor Hutton, at the National Liberal Club, and asking after your collected speeches, and how they get on.
Rosebery has forgotten to put before his book the motto which contains it all: “Latet anguis in herba.”1 I have seen a good deal of Morley, and found him admirably reasonable, practical, and clear. But very fearful indeed about Harcourt’s condition.—Ever sincerely yours,
Mitre,Oxford,Dec. 1, 1891.2
Dear Mr. Gladstone,—
It has been a sacrifice to be away this time, but I rejoice to see that the two aspects of Southern France have both justified themselves, and that you have been doing well while so much has happened at home.
Manning3 had certainly mellowed lately, and much of his early feelings towards you had been revived by his calculated liberality on the Irish question. He used to tell me that he was a Liberal from his Colonial Office days, much differing therein, as in most things, from the greater but so much less efficient colleague. The choice of Hutton for his immediate biographer, in defiance of Catholic feeling generally, makes it likely that his animosity and distrust will not be buried with him.
I certainly regret that things have been so managed at Oxford as to do dubious honour to the memory of Newman. It is true, he was not a great academic personage, and he may have done harm as well as good to the University. But he was great enough to obtain national celebrity, and to stand above contention. The site was so badly chosen that it seems to have been done on purpose, slily to represent the burning of the bishops as a thing condoned, if not deserved. I don’t think the town ought to consent to that.
The principle being admitted, the spot that occurs to me is that place in the railings of the Camera that is opposite the second entrance to St. Mary’s. It is not a region frequented by townspeople, it is not obtrusively conspicuous, and it would be like a monument to a general on his greatest field of battle.1
Indeed this is one of several points on which I should have much to say and to hear, if we were to meet soon. Letters of Newman have reached me from strange quarters enabling me, I hope, to say something worth the saying in the process of describing all the most notable men and the most considerable lines of thought that touched or crossed the Professor’s path. I don’t suppose you ever knew it, but in 1859-1862 Newman was much nearer you on the Italian question than Döllinger was. Both Hutton and Tom Arnold tell me that they were not aware of it.
I will at once see Sicherer, late Rector of the University, and my best friend among those on the Committee, and inform him of your generous intention of subscribing to the monument, and I will, with your permission, make it twenty pounds. You will be perfectly safe if you send a draft to him, Königinstrasse, or, in his name, to and through me.
Rossendale will, I suppose, retard the Dissolution to the natural end of the Session. Dick and I thought it a proper occasion to drink your health in a glass of champagne. It has made a greater impression on ministerialists than even those elections which showed, last winter, that Parnell was not strong enough to injure you. I have always been trembling, lest a new reign, or a European war, might slur and confuse the issues at the General Election; but I was hopeful all through, and I thank God now, that the earthly crown of your glorious life is very near.
We have been less fortunate than you, out there, three of us having been down with influenza; but it is nearly over, and has not been severe at Munich.—I remain, ever yours,
Dear Mr. Gladstone.—
I have received your cheque for twenty pounds towards Döllinger’s monument, and will to-day hand it over to Professor Sicherer. The Committee will, I am sure, be deeply impressed by the way in which you mark your early friendship.
What was obscure in my letter must have been an allusion to the Gladstone-Librarian Hutton.1 Manning was so well pleased by his article on Newman, and by what he said of Newman’s relations with himself, that he at once resolved to have his own biography written by Hutton, and gave him several interviews during the autumn for that purpose. The book is now announced, if not actually advertised. I took for granted that your own Librarian had consulted you upon the matter. For he asked me to revise his book for him, and I was obliged to explain that it would not do. But perhaps it would be right that he should know what Manning said to you, as throwing light on the condition of fortune in which he lived and died.
I see that Oxford accepts the statue, but refuses the Broad Street site. There can be no doubt that it was intended to balance the Martyrs’ Memorial.
I have only just discovered that Montalembert, after the coup d’État, not only condoned it, which was public, but privately asked the bloodstained Dictator for certain concessions to the clergy, in return for their support. So that he was ready to sell the liberties of the nation for a price to be paid to the Church. Walewski2 told Houghton that he had asked for the ministry of Foreign affairs; and although I have no proof of that, I really come very near it. Napoleon refused his demands, and so he had to make the most he could of the Orleans confiscation, to justify his breach.3
Artom, Cavour’s Jewish secretary and confidant, has written to assure me that the scheme of the Libera Chiesa was not merely an expedient and machine of war, but a political dogma with him. I used to think that Minghetti had made more of it than Cavour intended, but I am obliged to accept this assurance. If Döllinger had understood this, he would have spoken otherwise than he did in 1861.
His letters to Loyson have been published by our friend Séché.—I remain, ever yours,
Munich,Feb. 9, 1892.
Dear Mr. Gladstone,—
It seems to me that the Government would make a mistake in dissolving now, in their party interest; but I shall be glad if they do. I hear that we are generally prepared, and am not very apprehensive, except of the remaining Irish split.
I wish Rosebery would make an excuse to go to some German waters, and get better acquainted with post-Bismarckian Prussia. So much is changed since he made friends there with the fallen giant. But the strangest change of all is their quarrel with their friend Leo XIII, and his rash speculation in French Republicanism.
If I am fortunate enough to see you, I shall come as an honest restorer of property. Also I bring the receipt for your donation to Döllinger’s monument, which was accompanied by verbal acknowledgments such as you can well imagine. One of the Committee was deputed to make them, and to ask me to convey them to you.
My collections are growing rapidly, and I see my way to what will, I hope, be an interesting book. The Dictionary of National Biography has offered me Newman; but I should not get access to the necessary papers; and I cannot discover the secret of his quarrel with Manning, typical of his quarrel with ecclesiastical authority generally. All that I know about him, I mean of the richer and more exquisite species of knowledge, comes into my book in connection with the Roman question, and serves as a very appropriate foil. As I shall never have another opportunity, I propose to extend that half chapter out of proportion. I fear that Hutton’s book, nor yet Purcell’s—will not tell me what I want to know; and they will surely not tell the world what I want to say.—Ever truly yours,
8 Briennerstrasse, 14 avril 1894.
Chère Lady Blennerhassett,—
Vous avez raison. J’oublie bien des choses quand je vous vois. N’ai-je pas oublié votre travail dans la Rundschau, sur Newman, que je connais bien?
Votre mari me donne un Newman très habile, éclairé, rationnel, délié, très éloigné du commun des Ultramontains, par son intelligence.
Vous m’en offrez un autre, spiritualiste encore plus que spirituel, séparé de Rome par sa profondeur religieuse.
Je voudrais, par le moyen de l’un ou de l’autre, échapper à un troisième Newman que ni la religion ni l’esprit ne sépare de l’Ultramontanisme pur et simple, défenseur prédestiné de l’autorité temporelle et spirituelle, mais empêché, repoussé, irrité par son expérience personelle des autorités contemporaines. Lequel ne me satisfait pas, parce que s’il était intérieurement aussi autoritaire que je le trouve, on ne voit pas bien pourquoi les autorités actuelles l’ont repoussé, ont négligé d’en faire leur profit. J’arrive à croire qu’on le soupçonnait à cause du Développement qui était, en effet, une révolution, et qui lui donnait un peu l’air d’un personnage qui exigeait, pour le satisfaire, une théorie imaginée exprès pour lui et qui justifiait sa première manière, ses attaques, et la lenteur de sa conversion, jusqu’à ce qu’il l’eût découverte.
Car en Angleterre comme en Amérique, elle était toute nouvelle, et on sentait qu’elle renversait l’ancienne défensive Catholique en faisant droit à ses adversaires.
Wiseman a dit ce mot significatif. Il est d’une arrogance impossible.
Ce même développement emprunté à Tübingen et confirmé, soutenu, encouragé par tout le mouvement Romantique et Historique, est évidemment l’une des choses qui ont distingué, et ensuite séparé, le Professeur des siens, en abaissant les cimes et déconsidérant, en grande partie, la théologie Catholique et la Gallicane en particulier.
L’autre est sa théorie de la Tolérance. Celle-ci mène encore beaucoup plus loin. Mais on comprend que, de 1820 à 1850 à peu près, on pouvait croire la doctrine opposée morte. Rome semblait y avoir renoncé, par mille témoignages indirects.
Le plus grand mystère chez le Professeur c’est de s’expliquer comment il n’a pas compris qu’il s’agissait de deux systèmes religieux, de deux morales, de deux Dieux—lui qui voyait si clair dans les choses qui diffèrent, et qui n’aimait pas les brouillards qui confondent, les ressemblances qui rapprochent ou qui identifient.
J’ai dit: Ce même développement. Je sais bien que la théorie de Newman n’est pas la même; mais pour la rupture avec l’ancienne théologie cela revient au même.—Votre dévoué,
Chère Lady Blennerhassett,—
Nous avons été tous reconnaissants d’avoir de vos meilleures nouvelles, et moi de ce que vous avez bien voulu m’envoyer. J’étais chez Dick, et le messager de vos bontés n’a pas attendu mon acknowledgment. Je conclus de ce que vous m’envoyez Lacordaire que le Montalembert de Foisset,1 commencé au Correspondant, n’a pas paru séparément.
Pour Eckstein il me revient ce souvenir que le Comte de Menton2 vous a écrit que ses lettres ne méritaient pas d’être reproduites, à cause d’une certaine originalité ou indépendance malsonnante. J’en prends une pointe d’opposition dans son attitude religieuse, au delà de ce qui paraît dans ses écrits; mais il se peut qu’il s’agissait seulement de ses jugements personnels.
Il me semble aussi que la Marquise voulait écrire sur Brownson: mais je crois qu’elle ne l’a jamais fait. Je suis occupé d’un petit épisode, d’une Einschaltung sur Newman; et dans la carrière de Newman il y a un petit rôle pour Brownson.
Je suis effrayé de voir combien je me suis toujours contenté d’une connaissance sommaire des Français plus ou moins Libéraux. Vos cahiers sont pleins de nouvelles lumières; et si jamais vous aviez d’autres secours littéraires sur l’un ou l’autre de toute cette école, à partir du Génie du Christianisme,1 songez à moi.—Votre dévoué,
Le samedi 16.
8 Briennerstrasse,le vendredi 13, 1894.
Chère Lady Blennerhassett,—
Vous me promettez une bonne nouvelle, et puis vous m’en donnez une mauvaise, en remettant la rencontre espérée. Pourvu que ce ne soit que jusqu’à ce soir.
Que vous êtes bonne et admirable de me confier les précieux extraits sur le regrettable Chateaubriand. Je vous en suis d’autant plus reconnaissant que j’y ai trouvé des choses inconnues, et très utiles pour l’usage que je fais de lui.
Il entre dans la vie du Professeur plus que celui-ci, qui ne s’intéressait pas à lui, ni soupçonnait. Car c’est lui qui a inauguré en France le mouvement des Catholiques Libéraux, et une bonne partie de leurs bagages vient de lui, tandis que lui, à ce qu’il me semble, a puisé sa doctrine nulle part sinon dans les péripétiés de sa carrière. Il précède Lamennais de trois ou quatre ans.—Votre dévoué,
Munich,Monday,Jan. 28, 1895.
Dear Mr. Gladstone,—
As you are setting to work on Butler, I will venture to submit two or three things for consideration:
1. To bear in mind that the doctrine of the Sermons on the infallible Conscience, is not only borrowed from Sarasa,2 but is also indefensible.
2. To take notice of Sidgwick’s remarks on the Sermons in connection with Utilitarianism, and of Matthew Arnold’s on the argument of the Analogy.
3. To view Butler in connection with his immediate predecessors, Leibniz, and especially Malebranche, in order to determine the degree to which he can be considered an improver or strengthener of evidences.
4. To examine his relations with Kant, who never mentions his name, but who comes very near him in questioning demonstration and in exalting conscience. This must have been set as a Thesis in Universities; but I cannot find that any book treats of it.
In reply to your kind question about Döllinger, there has been much progress in the quietude of the Recess. Several necessary episodes require very full treatment and occupy excessive time and space. One is the rise of the science of ecclesiastical history, which, in our Church, has never been described. For Döllinger was formed not by the divines, but by the ecclesiastical historians, and one can trace the growth and establishment amongst them of those precepts and ideas which are distinctive of him alone among his contemporaries. Another topic that I have had to go fully into is the history of the Liberal Catholics in France. They were in constant touch with him, and many of them came to Munich, and it is a common notion, partly countenanced by the Professor himself, that he agreed with them, and that that was the key to events. Their history, also unwritten, and leading into many recesses, political and religious, will show that there was a well-defined difference between them. But I have to show the possibility that what passed with Montalembert in the decisive years, 1863-1867, may have had something to do with Döllinger’s own attitude. Regarding Montalembert I have much new matter.
Newman claims a chapter to himself, with regard to the line men of note took in the Roman question. I have had two hundred of his letters in my hands, and you will be surprised to find to what lengths of opposition he went, during a series of years. This will be a new Newman, who would otherwise be in some danger of passing into oblivion. A fourth substantive topic is the Roman question. Stanmore has allowed me to see his father’s papers, and the Elliots offer me Lord Minto’s. In my last talks with our good friend Lacaita I obtained much, and among other things a certain paper of advice of yours, of 1865. Even the question you touched in writing to Burns has to be discussed. For those rather obscure writers of our Church in England influenced Döllinger at one time. They began the method of eliminating school opinion from dogma—Holden1 —which was the root of all reunion; and another, Davenport2 —whose collected works, I am afraid, will never be found for St. Deiniol’s—anticipated No. 90. To bring into light the unity in the Professor’s life I have to be careful of past detail—showing how it might appear to a man looking into Church matters about 1820, that very many old defects had been expiated and purged away, that there had been a sort of Conversion of Rome, compared to the days of Sixtus; and how this illusion led him to become an Ultramontane of a peculiar kind. The main point is, that he was always cut off from what we understand by the term, by his theory of Development and of Toleration. I have to tell, for the first time, the history of the theory of Development, which made men reject the old theology, and admit to a high place in their Councils the Protestants of the seventeenth century. Toleration was a still larger cause of division; and the point most difficult to bring out clearly is, why Döllinger never came to see it, and imagined himself holding the same fundamentals as Bellarmine or Bossuet. It is only by bringing forward many things, and employing, for light or shade, all the ecclesiastical writers of his time, that I can hope to make all this intelligible. For the Council, I have not only his Roman Correspondence, but also that of the Prussian Government, including that of 1873 which led to the Kulturkampf.
It seems unnecessary to say that I have spoken of all this to nobody but yourself. I have sent to the Museum a list of the books I have still to consult, and they have promised to buy any they have not got.
A complete Newman came out as my Christmas gift to my daughter Annie, and in going over many volumes again I have been struck by the art with which he tries to make believe that he holds opinions of which, in private, he professed the contrary.
Esther Waters, I blush to say, is the only one of the books you name that I have before me. But I have not had time for more than fifty pages, and have not discovered I will not say the charm, but—the spell. Also, blushing, I confess to having broken down in the first volume of Marcella; so that my daughters, in their indignation, have lent it out to friends.—Ever yours,
Tegernsee,le 13 sept. 1900.
Chère Lady Blennerhassett,—
Je profiterai avec reconnaissance, à mon retour en Angleterre de vos informations sur les lettres de Newman à Mozley. Je n’en avais rien vu. Lilly a reproduit les siennes dans ses Essays and Speeches, et il me dit que les Pères1 ont fini par lui savoir gré de cette publication. La masse de ses lettres Catholiques est, à cette heure, assez considérable.
Je vois clair dans le problème de la vie de N.—Pourquoi profondément Romain lui-même, était-il en lutte avec tous les représentants de l’Ultramontanisme officiel? D’abord, parce qu’il n’aimait pas à être contrôlé et empêché déjà comme Anglican. Ensuite parce que l’Ultramontanisme officiel gâtait son plan de rapprocher Catholiques et Anglicans. Enfin parce que les diverses formules de son développement effrayaient les gens les plus sincères.
Mais je ne sais pas dans quelle proportion il faut faire la part des trois motifs.
Avez-vous jamais vu la traduction allemande des Discours on the Present Position of Catholics? Il y a une Préface par Döllinger. Dans la 5e Lecture Newman mit, à sa façon, à peu près comme Perrone, les bûchers de Rome. Il serait curieux de voir si le Professeur a laissé passer pareille énormité. Cela prouverait combien, en 1851 encore, il avait peu approfondi ces choses, et vivait encore dans son idéalisme primitif.
J’ai averti Friedrich de ne pas trop appuyer sur le voyage de Rome. Mais il se trouve une notice de 1887 où le Professeur dit que c’est depuis son retour de ce voyage qu’il est arrivé aux conclusions qu’il tenait encore. Je crois qu’il veut dire: depuis les recherches auxquelles il s’est livré dès lors, et non en conséquence des choses qu’il y a vues.
Il me dit qu’il achèvera cet hiver, avec le troisième volume.
Vous me donnez une bien mauvaise nouvelle de cet ami vraiment supérieur. Je vois bien pourquoi ce mal doit lui être dangereux. Ce serait une grande perte, en Allemagne, pour la littérature Catholique—je crois, la plus grande.
Votre mari m’a envoyé une indication qui m’est précieuse sur le père Finlay et je l’en remercie, si vous me le permettez, par ces présentes.—Votre dévoué,
THE VATICAN COUNCIL AND THE VATICAN DECREES
My dear Sir,—
It has been suggested to me that I might take the liberty of sending some copies of my Is Healthful Reunion Impossible? to you, and that if you thought good you would give it with my respects to any Bishop to whom you should think it desirable. My aim has been to follow Bossuet1 as closely as I could. Unhappily, where one is altogether agreed, what one has to say can be written in small space, when there is difficulty, explanation is necessarily long. And so nearly half of my volume is occupied with the subject of the Pope. But it was suggested to me that it might not be without its use at this crisis, if your hierarchy were to see how injurious the declaration of Papal infallibility would be to the hope of reunion. I have, therefore, dwelt largely upon it, as was suggested to me.
I hope that you will excuse this liberty.—I beg to remain, your faithful servant,
E. B. Pusey.
[1 ]Gelehrtenversammlung. The Congress of Scholars at Munich in 1863 is described by Acton in the Home and Foreign Review of January 1864.
[1 ]The Malines days refer to the Roman Catholic Congress at Malines in 1863, at which Montalembert made a great pronouncement.
T. Lecanuet, Montalembert, iii. 347 et seq.
Le Discours de Malines. This refers to the speech of Montalembert, “L’Eglise libre dans l’Etat libre,” delivered in the Catholic Congress at Malines, 1863.
The appendix to the two speeches contains an account of how Cavour was led to utter the famous phrase through a correspondence with Montalembert, p. 177 et seq.
[2 ]Arbues, S. Peter of Arbues was canonized in 1867. This much upset Döllinger. This was the occasion of Döllinger’s article, Rom und die Inquisition.
Cf. Friedrich, Ignaz von Döllinger, iii. 444 et seq.
[1 ] Lady Blennerhassett had sent to Acton Döllinger’s correspondence with her.
[1 ]Sailer, Johann Michael (1751-1832), Bishop of Regensburg. Sailer, both as professor and writer, had great influence on developing the inner and more spiritual life of the Church. He was accused of coquetting with the extremer mystics.
[1 ] The Countess Leopoldine Arco-Valley, Acton’s sister-in-law.
[1 ]Ségur, Louis Gaston Adrien, Mgr. de (1820-81); see his Life written by his brother, Souvenirs et Récit d’un Frère. He was auditor of the Rota, and given the episcopal privileges on his retirement.
[2 ]Moehler, Johann Adam (1796-1838), the author of the Symbolik, one of the greatest works of Catholic apology, was professor at Munich from 1835. Cf. Acton’s account of him in the article on German Schools of History. Döllinger had great admiration for him and edited his posthumous works. Friedrich published a work on him in 1894.
[1 ] Rio’s Epilogue à l’Art Chrétien.
[2 ]Rio. This refers to the visit of “The Pilgrims” (Lamennais, Montalembert, and Lacordaire) to Munich in 1832. A banquet was given in Lamennais’ honour by the artists and authors. What Lamennais had in his pocket was the encyclical Mirari Vos and a letter from Cardinal Pacca suppressing Lamennais’ writings. After the banquet Lamennais and the others took coffee at the charming village of “Menterschweige.” It was only the evening after that Lamennais told his friends. Cf. Lecanuet, Montalembert, i. 321 et seq. Rio, Epilogue à l’Art Chrétien, i. 166 et seq.
[1 ]Ces demoiselles, the Rios.
[1 ]Friedrich, Johann, author of the History of the Vatican Council, and the Life of Döllinger, each in 3 vols. Also a tract on Der Mechanismus der Vatikanischen Religion.
[1 ]Thomas Graves Law (1836-94), after being a priest of the Brompton Oratory (1860-78), left the Roman Church and became in 1879 Keeper of the Signet Library in Edinburgh. His best known books are those on the conflicts between Regulars and Seculars in the Reign of Elizabeth, and on the Archpriest Controversy.
[2 ]A. W. Hutton (1848-1912) had at one time been Librarian of the Oratory at Edgbaston. At this time he was Gladstone Librarian of the National Liberal Club, and edited Gladstone’s speeches. He wrote on Newman, and finally became Rector of Bow Church.
[1 ] If you remember that you are the only person to whom I can speak out entirely openly concerning my inmost thoughts, you will understand how anxious I am to see you again.
[1 ]Aston Manor. A by-election took place at Aston Manor, March 20th, 1891. It resulted in a much larger majority for the Unionist candidate than had been expected. This was due to the influence of the O’Shea divorce case, and the consequent split in the Home Rule Party.
[2 ]Creighton’s Chair. Mandell Creighton, Dixie Professor of Ecclesiastical History at Cambridge, became Bishop of Peterboro’ in 1891. His successor was Henry Melville Gwatkin, who died in November 1916.
[3 ]Knowles, James, the founder and editor of the Nineteenth Century.
[4 ] Döllinger was never definitely an “Old” Catholic, i.e. he never acknowledged the jurisdiction of Bishop Reinkens.
[1 ]The Bonn Conference was a reunion and conference of old Catholics and others held in 1874-75 under the Presidency of Döllinger.
[2 ] Mr. C. Newdigate (1816-1887) was a rather absurd embodiment of extreme reactionary views in politics. He was member for North Warwickshire from 1843 to 1885.
[3 ] Ince succeeded Mozley as Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford in 1878, and held the post till 1910.
[1 ]Séché, Léon, author of Les Derniers Jansénistes, 1891, and Les Origines du Concordat, 1894, and many works on the Romantic Movement.
[2 ]The Frankfort Parliament. Döllinger was elected a delegate to the National Assembly at Frankfort in 1848. Cf. Friedrich’s Life, ii. ch. xvii. pp. 363-422.
[1 ] This refers to Lord Rosebery’s Pitt.
[2 ] This letter refers to Acton’s projected Life of Döllinger. It was never written. All we have is the paper from the English Historical Review, published in the History of Freedom, pp. 375-434.
[3 ] Manning, as will be remembered, began life in the Colonial Office. He died on January 14, 1892.
[1 ] The statue of Newman never went to Oxford after all. It stands now outside the Brompton Oratory.
[1 ] A. W. Hutton.
[2 ]Walewski, Alexandre Florian Joseph Colonna, Comte (1810-68), a Pole by birth, who became a French politician. He was ambassador at London. It was he who obtained from Palmerston the swift recognition of Louis Napoleon, which was the cause of Palmerston’s famous dismissal. He was French plenipotentiary at the Congress of Paris at the close of the Crimean War.
[3 ] See Montalembert’s side in Lecanuet, Vie de Montalembert, iii.
[1 ]Foisset, Joseph Théophile. Le Comte de Montalembert, 1877.
He was a friend of Montalembert, and published three articles in the Correspondant of 1872. These were republished in 1877 with an introduction by M. Douchaire, in order to defend Montalembert from the charge of meditating apostasy.
[2 ] Count Ratti-Menton, author of Rome et l’Intérêt français (1865).
[1 ]Le Génie du Christianisme, by François René, Vicomte de Chateaubriand, 1802.
[2 ]Sarasa, Alphonso Antonio de (1618-67), was a Jesuit. He wrote Ars semper gaudendi.
[1 ]Holden, Henry (1596-1662), a Roman Catholic divine, prominent on the secular side in the disputes between secular and regular clergy in England. “No man took more pains or was more successful in separating the approved tenets of the Church from the superstructure of school divines.”—Gillow, Biog. Dict. of the English Catholics.
[2 ]Davenport, Christopher (1598-1680), known as Franciscus a Sancta Clara. He wrote a book on the Thirty-nine Articles, which took very much the same line as Newman was to take in Tract XC. He wrote other books of apology.
[1 ] The Fathers of the Oratory at Edgbaston.
[1 ] Bossuet’s book, L’Exposition de la Foi catholique, was a moderate statement of the Roman position. It converted Turenne and other distinguished persons.